


Dusk

by sendmeademon



Series: 30 prompts [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendmeademon/pseuds/sendmeademon
Summary: Dusk. The time for the sun to set and for the moon to rise and shine. And also, time for monsters like Ymir.





	Dusk

Dusk, time for the sun to set and grow weak and for the moon to rise and shine. A strange, almost hazy glow sets, and makes everything that happen that much mysterious. Every action is laced with a certain amount of relevance, of existentialism even.

But for most people, dusk means one single, ominous  thing: it's about time for scary creatures to start roaming around as they please. The earth is theirs so long as the moon is out and about. The monsters are at peak performance at night.

Monsters like Ymir, she supposes.

Being a moonchild is hard. Sharing their time with the sunchildren is very annoying: you can only live by half. Your life is completely split. Of course, moonchildren tend to go north, where the night almost rules out the sun for the day.

Shadows have always been creepy for the humans, and thus, they don't understand. They can't, Ymir knows. It doesn't get in their stupid brains. Even if shadows don't always conceal bad things, there is that ‘what if’ that always puts them on their toes. That's why they despise moonchildren and love sunchildren with all their might.

Ymir used to think pretty poorly of sunchildren. How couldn't she? ‘The better half of the coin’, they said. The better half? Why? They were supposed to be bright and happy and nice, overall. 

The only thing they were, was conceited. 

And egotistical, spoiled drama queens. Utter brats. They knew they were liked better than their counterparts, and they basked in it, rejoiced from all the attention that was given to them just for the sake of existing. Sure, they were extremely good-looking, charismatic. They seemed to shine on their own. A shard of the sun was within them. And yet, Ymir hated them all the same.

Except for Historia, of course. Sweet, pure, candid Historia.

Even her name was beautiful. And don't get Ymir started as to Historia herself. She was the personification of the sun itself: silky hair like liquid gold, so soft to the touch; dewy, slightly bronzed skin with light freckles around her tiny, button nose; beatific smile, always grazing her plush lips… 

And, despite all of this, she was so small. She wasn't very tall, but that wasn't it. She had this innocent aura, like she could fit in Ymir’s palm. The sun in its most concentrated form.

Also,  _ oh _ , look at those eyes. Maybe the only big thing about Historia. They were… Well, for instance, they were blue, framed by a thick, dark rim of blond lashes. But they were so much more than that. So much more than the simple appearance of them. They were innocent, understanding, insanely good. 

However, there was something that put Ymir off. There was something else in those eyes… Something dark that she hadn't seen in any sunchild before. Suffering. Deep sorrow, demons of her own to deal with. And also, acceptance. 

The eyes of a martyr. The eyes of a saint.

That was what had drawn Ymir in the first time. Those eyes, and the goodness in them. She had never seen something quite like that. 

It had been a rainy day, that she knew. That wasn't either good or bad for her, since her presence wasn't affected by climatological events. Ymir didn't have a physical body per se, after all. She wasn't wet, she didn't feel cold. She was taking the last stroll of the night, flying just over the sea, when she saw her.

At first, Ymir thought that the Sun itself had taken form. What else should she had thought? Historia was a stereotypical sunchild: so blond and glowy, looking at her own reflection in the sea, waves lapping her feet gently. A flying angel that could be in a holidays card. Pretty.

The second thought would be: what the hell was she doing there?

As far as she knew, there were no sunchildren that far up north. Why would there be? The night was so long in there, the day was almost non-existent. A sunchildren’s life for the day would be shortened to only a few hours. And then, Nothing.

There were many theories as to what Nothing is. Only sunchildren and moonchildren experience it. When the moon wasn't ruling the sky, moonchildren were barely a thing. They were… Around. Invisible, barely even them, thoughts all scrambled. A nasty feeling altogether.

Sunchildren had it even worse. The moon was always at the sky, and thus, moonchildren always remained, in one way or another, as essence. But the sun liked to move around. It disappeared. And sunchildren with them. They were cast into a dark pit, most of them said, and were unable to talk, even to themselves. Unable to think, to be. 

They ceased to exist.

“Why would a sunchild chase the night?”

Ymir had asked, at the time. The answer chilled her to the bone:

“I have nothing to live for. Do you?”

Dawn was upon them, the sun was out and Ymir hadn't been able to answer. She wasn't used to be thinking that deep into anything, ever. She faded away into tiny dots of unconsciousness and, for the first time in her life, she tried to think around the sunny fog.

For weeks, Ymir didn't see that beautiful girl again. And during all those weeks, Ymir pondered. ‘Something to live for,’ she said. What would that be? It sounded so serious and reverential…

She couldn't admit that she was thinking about the girl more than she wanted to admit.

Their second encounter was longer. The sun was being lazy, and moved very slowly on its way down. Ymir saw her on a branch, watching some birds. She was sure the girl had seen her, but she was ignoring her. That was pretty rude, but Ymir wasn't the one to talk.

“Bowling.”

The girl’s head shoot up and to a side, watching Ymir in confusion. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I like bowling,” Ymir elaborated, fully sure of herself. “I like many things, honestly. Sometimes I play football with other moonchildren. Swimming is also very nice.”

Silence came on them like a thick blanket. Only now Ymir noticed that the sunchild had tears in her eyes, and she was worrying her lip intently. She had the hiccups, too. Poor little thing. Ymir could tell she was trying extremely hard to not seem sad, but she exuded this blue energy. It was so unsunchild-like.

“Are you okay, sunshine?”

It was inescapable. Ymir had to know. She had to protect such beauty, even if it would be only for egoistic purposes, such as looking at her for days on end. 

Her words warmed the girl up, she could tell. Unmoving, she kept on watching the birds. She had flowers on her hair, bright red poppies, and she was barefoot. Her dress was light and short. If someone had told Ymir the girl was an angel, she would have believed it.

A long time passed by. Ymir felt herself getting stronger, and the image of the sunchild was fading away. She sat down on the grass so contemplate her. ‘I'm not stalking her, I just asked her a question and I want my answer,’ Ymir thought.

The response she was seeking came when the sunchild was on the brink of existing and not. Her lovely blue eyes looked straight into Ymir’s. The girl further blessed her with a small, tentative smile. She looked shy, but resolved.

“When we meet again, will you swim with me then?”

A wave of longing hit Ymir and almost drowned her. She ran towards the sunchild, but when she climbed the tree, there was no one there.

They met several times after that. The first time, they went swimming. It was awkward on Ymir’s part, since the sunchild, who had finally told her her name, took turns between ignoring her and staring at her. They didn't talk much. They just swam down into the sea, and looked at the fish in the depths.

They didn't touch each other, not at all. It would have been fine by Ymir, she wasn't very touchy-feely, but she had this urge… This craving that couldn't be satisfied. 

‘I want to know,’ she kept thinking, like a mantra, ‘I have to know how she feels against my skin’.

And so, time passed. They became close, and then, closer. They went bowling, they went out for dinner or very early breakfasts, they went to the movies… Everything had to be cut short, since one of them would always disappear before they could finish. They saw each other in stolen moments, at dawn or dusk. Sometimes, they were so deep into each other that they forgot to say their goodbyes.

Historia seemed so much happier, and for that Ymir rejoiced. The sunchild had told her that she could  _ feel  _ her, even if she couldn't see her. And it made sense: Ymir was a moonchild, and she never truly disappeared. She wasn't surprised when she discovered that she had been following Historia around in her most primal form.

The thing is, Ymir couldn't feel Historia. Sunchildren disappeared, and that was it, until the next light. And it drove Ymir insane. 

‘It's not enough, it's never enough,’ she wanted to say, but she knew she would scare Historia away.

Until one day, all hell broke loose.

It was a pretty normal day. Ymir and Historia were playing checkers in the beach. It was a very windy day, so it wasn't the best idea, since the game kept flying around. They were unbothered by it, since they weren't mortals and climate didn't phase them. Historia’s hair was still, the poppies in her hair unfazed.

And then, it happened. Another chip sent out flying. However, this time, both of them reached to grab it. And their hands met for the very first time.

Historia dropped the chip in terror and tried to jumped back, but Ymir’s hand grabbed her wrist. She felt guilty, though. The sunchild looked distraught, her eyes watery. The sun was low in the horizon, but slowly but surely making its way up to the top.

“Historia, please,” Ymir pleaded. She didn't even know what she wanted from her, but it was so much more than this.

But Historia tried to free her arm and looked at her with terrified eyes. “No, we can't do this, it's impossible,” she mumbled, tears falling already.

That made Ymir angry, but she released the sunchild. It wasn't nice to keep her close against her will, that she knew, but she just wanted to... She got up and balled her fists, fully feeling her anger soaring. 

“Why not? I don't understand why you're so afraid,” Ymir snapped, taking a step closer. Historia didn't move. “You know I…”

At lightspeed, Historia put her hands over Ymir’s mouth. She was immediately shut up, and pleasantly so, but she was still bubbling up in fury. Still, the touch of Historia’s hands was everything she could have hoped for and more.

“I know,” Historia said, sullenly. “I do too. But…”

Ymir put her hands over Historia’s smaller ones, and put them on her cheeks. “I need to feel you, Historia. I can't stand  _ this, _ ” she insisted, “only this, forever. I need more.”

Nothing else came out of Historia’s mouth. She looked conflicted. Her fight-or-flight instincts seemed to be fully bloomed and ready to get her away. And yet, when she moved it was closer to Ymir.

Time wasn't being nice to the moonchild. She felt herself slipping, but she tried to keep it together just a little bit longer, just until...

Historia put her lips on hers.

It was the softest caress, and yet, it meant so much for Ymir. She felt happy, truly happy, which didn't happen often, and hugged Historia close. She felt her everywhere, and it was so new and perfect and warm… It felt like heaven.

Just like it was the natural thing to do, Historia hugged her tight and put her cheek against her heart. She sighed once, twice, and pulled away. Ymir had expected her to have a big goofy smile. All bad things were erased when they were together, after all. Or so Ymir thought.

Historia’s eyes were resolved again, and Ymir didn't like that.

“I can't do this now,” she muttered. “I'm sorry. I love you.”

The sun was definitely in the zone, and Ymir was kicked out to Nothing. 

When the night came around again, she would find her. They were always together nowadays, it had to be like this. Historia wouldn't disappear, even if she was afraid. She wouldn't leave her hanging. She loved Ymir, or so she had said. It couldn't be.

When the night came around, Historia was nowhere to be seen.

Time passed. A lot of time. Ymir had never thought about time as humans did, really, but she started doing so. Days went by, and suddenly, weeks, and also months. She went through all the stages of grief until finally accepting it.

Ymir thought she could understand it. She had pushed Historia too much and too fast. She was delicate, and yet incredibly strong. She loved her, and yet she kept away for her own good. Ymir wished she could be that strong. So she did the only thing she could do.

She waited.

The wait was excruciatingly painful, but eventually she became numb. She began to wonder if Historia had even been real. She was too good to be true, honestly. A mirage, maybe.

Ymir was flying over the water, putting her hands into the water just to disturb her reflection. Boredom was upon her. She had grown closer to the other moonchildren, but she needed her time alone, too. And she liked the sea. It had been where she first had seen her.

She looked up. It was very early, the sun had just started going up. Ymir was aware of that. If so, why did she see, in the horizon, a shimmery, tiny light, growing big as it got closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I like this one much, much better. I'm actually a little proud of it! I'm glad I still kinda have it in me.


End file.
